


First Love

by Kaiiidth



Series: First Love / Late Spring [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Autistic Spock (Star Trek), Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Meeting as Teenagers, Sarek is a Horrible Father, Unresolved Trauma, mentions of Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-31 22:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18323012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiiidth/pseuds/Kaiiidth
Summary: Spock cannot find equal footing between emotion and logic. He is sent to Psi Sector IX, an off-planet juvenile detention center. When he crosses paths with James T. Kirk, he finds he no longer has anything to prove. Spock’s first love blossoms, leaving him to seek solace in its petals.





	First Love

I.

Amanda’s lips were pursed throughout the entire shuttle ride. Her eyes were set forward, as if they could burn holes into the titanium she gazed at. Although Spock was never great at reading the room, he was not blind. Spock could tell his mother was angry, her human emotions evident.

Sarek, on the other hand, was unshaken by his wife’s frustration. His back was straight as a rod as he sat perfectly still, coming out of a shallow meditation as the shuttle came to the end of its journey.

Spock sat between his parents, acting as a barrier between his father’s psyche and his mother’s wrath. This had proven to be Sarek’s decision, a choice made without much of Amanda’s input. Spock figured this was the case, seeing that it was always his mother in his corner advocating for him, rooting for him. Nevertheless, she could not object, Sarek’s signature gracing the previously submitted paperwork. Times like those Spock wished his father was not a Vulcan ambassador, a man holding a certain amount of power in regarding the relationship between humans and Vulcans. The board could not stand to refuse him.

The young half-Vulcan could feel the tension building so thick it could be cut. Spock wished they would exchange words, but the entire trip onto the surface of the planet had been quiet. Not a comfortable silence; Spock expected his mother to implode.

Sarek had delivered the news on Spock’s birthday, early January. The Vulcan skies were dusted a dark maroon, and Amanda had made him a traditional Terran birthday cake. He was sixteen Vulcan years old, failing to protest against her earnest insistence on blowing out the candles. Spock remembered Sarek’s smooth entrance, ominous as he cast a shadow across the dining room table. Amanda’s face had fallen, and her elated mood dropped several hypothetical degrees as she felt his thoughts.

“Sarek,” she stood slowly, circling around the angular furniture as she approached her husband. “I told you, we’re not doing that.”

“It is for his well-being, my wife,” Sarek claimed, leaving Spock with a multitude of questions.

Spock raised an eyebrow, questioning his father. “What are you referring to?”

Amanda let out a detested puff of air, deep from her lungs and weighing on her conscience.

“I have enrolled you into an institution for troubled youth,” he said.

Amanda’s voice was clipped. “Your father fails to understand that our society needs adjustments, not you.”

At this moment, Spock realized he’d walked into an ongoing argument. Amanda’s eyes were like steel, hard and resilient against her husband’s words.

“Report to your quarters, Spock. Your mother and I must discuss this further.”

“Actually, we don’t. I said no, _husband_.” The last word was a challenge as it left her lips and Spock briefly pitied his father. Only a fool would stand against Amanda Grayson and expect to win.

Or so he thought. Shortly after the occurrence, Spock was called back into the dining room and presented with a suitcase. A gift from his father, of course. Amanda was nowhere in sight.

“She is in the garden,” Sarek knew his son better than he’d ever let on.

The glass door led to the garden, which Spock tentatively stepped into. His mother leaned against the balcony, head hung in distress. The Vulcan placed a gentle hand onto her shoulder, his telepathic touch igniting her. Spock felt her overwhelming anger as well as a twinge of guilt.

Amanda straightened up, blinking rapidly. She had grown accustomed to Vulcan suppression, and mirrored it the best she possibly could. “I’m sorry, Spock.”

Spock was silent, his gaze turning to the view beyond the balcony.

“I did everything I could, but… you know your father. Stubborn as they come.”

Spock said nothing.

“It won’t be for very long. You’re a good kid, Spock… I know you are.”

His mother’s confirmation was all he needed, and he carried it throughout their goodbyes. Sarek stood behind her, revealing nothing as Amanda wiped at her face. The man arranged his son’s luggage and stayed silent as Amanda’s tearful farewell threatened something within Spock. He knew better than to let it through.

Sarek offered a ta’al. Spock failed to understand how he could live long or prosper in the given circumstance.

“Remember, if you need anything- anything at all- you call me. Right away.”

“Yes, mother.”

She brought her hand up to cup his face, rubbing her thumb against his now prominent cheekbone. What had once been soft, smooth flesh had become troubled, teenage skin and Spock gave his mother a rare, genuine smile.

“I love you, Spock.”

“And I, you.”

With that, Spock detangled himself from her tender hold. They departed, such sweet sorrow, and Spock looked over his shoulder as he walked further away. Amanda was preoccupied, watching her son until he was no longer visible. Sarek, however, had turned away, anticipating the next shuttle to Vulcan.

An array of similarly aged children surrounded Spock, the majority of them human. He doubted there would be another Vulcan student in attendance, seeing that Vulcan children never had behavioral problems. As always, Spock was the exception according to his father. Such exceptions only made his stomach churn, as they implied Spock was not a real Vulcan. He had been dealing with the notion since the day he was born. Those conceived in such a scientific manner were planned children, belonging to parents who took great pride in their creation. This is where Spock felt like another exception.

He’d never been good with crowds, and his ears were sensitive even by Vulcan standards. Overall, Spock was not enjoying himself, finding all the different stimuli overwhelming. Feeling lightheaded, he rubbed the pointed tip of his ear in a self-soothing motion. Spock continued to do so despite the odd looks he garnered. He was unsure of what the others gawked at, since this could be the first time they’d ever seen a Vulcan.

Spock slowed his pace, adjusting to what could only be described as sensory hell very slowly. He trailed behind the crowd of his peers, familiar with the dissonances between himself and the others. There were a number of clear, definite differences between Spock and the human children, but he was sure the biggest ones lay within the mind.

As soon as he steadied his breath, Spock felt a tap on his left shoulder. The Vulcan turned to his left, only to find nobody there. He furrowed his slanted brows, alarmed by the laughter emerging from his right.

“Ha! I totally got you,” said a boy, bringing Spock’s attention onto him. He looked Spock over for a second before asking him a question. “Do all Vulcans have big foreheads?”

The query made Spock try to look at his own forehead. He felt silly only after the attempt had been made. “I do not believe I possess a large forehead.”

“Maybe it’s the bangs,” the boy shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking ahead of him.

Spock examined him, looking the boy up and down as he tread before him. He wore a pair of distressed jeans, the holes looking accidental rather than for stylistic purposes. His brick red jacket reminded Spock of the Vulcan night sky, but the grime it carried brought him back to his senses.

The boy looked back over his shoulder, and their eyes met for a split second before Spock broke the contact as he felt uncomfortable with it. He felt his face flush, his cheeks tingling with what could only be embarrassment.

“My mom told me it’s rude to stare,” said the other.

“I apologize.”

“It’s okay. My mom _also_ told me I’m ‘a sight for sore eyes.’”

Spock couldn’t say he disagreed. “I have never seen a human with so many recessive traits.”

The boy was blonde and blue-eyed, freckles covering the bridge of his nose and laying across his rosy cheeks. He looked as though he had recently participated in strenuous physical activity, much like Spock after helping his mother in her garden. His appearance was disheveled, from his poorly laced boots to the mussed ends of his golden hair.

“Yeah, well… that’s what happens when your ancestors were probably cousins or something.”

Spock hid his distaste at the crude commentary and instead walked alongside the blonde. He looked at the floor, focusing on his careful steps forward.

“My name is Jim. Jim Kirk.” The boy interrupted Spock’s step counting, sticking his hand out for a second before pulling it back. “Sorry. I forgot about Vulcans and hands for a sec.”

“I am S’chn T’gai Spock, son of Sarek.”

“Sch… Shin…Schin… Can I just call you Spock?”

“You may.” He was amused; most humans didn’t even try to pronounce it.

Jim looked pleased. “So… spill the beans, Spock. What landed a pristine Vulcan like yourself here at Psi Sector IX?”

“My father believed it to be the best course of action.” Spock answered, hands wrapped tight around his two bags.

The human shook his head. “That blows. The other kids were saying you’re probably here to observe us or some shit. Turns out, you’re just as bad as the rest of us, right?”

Spock tensed. “I do not believe this.”

“You’re here for a reason.”

“My father’s discretion-“

“Do they have detention on Vulcan?” Jim interrupted him, something the Vulcan found he was fond of doing. Spock found the human boy rather nosy, but remained inclined to maintain conversation. His rational mind instructed him to walk away from Jim, but he did not obey.

Spock gave it thought. “Not in the traditional sense of the word, no. However, I am familiar with the concept.”

“Well, imagine going to a school filled with detention kids. That’s Psi Sector IX.”

“Is this not your first time?” Spock raised an eyebrow.

Jim laughed, crisp and clear. “Not really. I spent some time here before my mom shipped me off to live on a colony with my aunt and uncle.”

“That did not go well, I presume.”

The blonde’s relaxed demeanor changed as he was prompted. Spock regretted asking. “Not really, no.”

The two walked in silence for a moment. Spock believed they’d touched upon a subject Jim was not comfortable disclosing.

“So, why did your dad decide to send you here?”

It was Spock’s turn to go tight lipped. Jim nudged him, making Spock flinch at the sudden physical contact. It wasn’t much, but it was the first time in a long time that anybody but his mother laid a hand on him. Or, in this case, an elbow.

“Sorry,” Jim twisted his lips into a pout, watching Spock go rigid. “None of my business.”

“With due time,” Spock said, not wanting to offend. In all honesty, he should have been taken aback by Jim’s sudden questionnaire. The boy was untimely, almost as if he hadn’t been able to read the Vulcan, either. Spock empathized with this, as he found himself asking inappropriate questions more often than not. He let it slide, but decided he would like to learn more about Jim Kirk.

They walked behind their peers, with Jim standing on the edge of his heel in hopes to see over the crowd. The action amused Spock, making him raise an eyebrow in reaction. Jim huffed as he was scrutinized, shoving Spock again with his elbow upon acknowledging Spock’s obvious height advantage. Based on their current interactions, Spock deduced that Jim was tactile, and mostly unable to stay still even when actively moving. The human was fidgety, most unlike Amanda. His mother often participated in Vulcan meditation, finding inner peace within the practice. She claimed it helped her think, which defeated the purpose entirely. Spock speculated that such a practice would be lost on Jim.

The Vulcan was torn from his personal thoughts when he felt pressure on his shoulder. He blinked rapidly, only seeing Jim grabbing onto his side in an attempt to stabilize himself. Kirk was standing on the tips of his toes, peering over the crowd and using Spock as a support in order to prevent himself from toppling over. Spock tensed, unused to the other boy’s grip. He fought the urge to shake the human off of him, but decided against it. If he followed through, the boy would become acquainted with the floor in an instant.

“Do you see a lady with long, brown hair?” Kirk asked, his actions utterly normal in his own eyes.

Spock sighed and took hold of Jim, gently leading him off of his person and back at his side. He took a moment to examine the crowd for any adults, but the only ones he spotted were the pair at the very front of the group. Neither of them had long, brown hair.

“I do not.”

Kirk kicked at the dirt, shoving his hands into his pockets in what appeared to be disappointment.

“May I inquire what significance the hairstyle holds?” Spock clasped his hands together, another self-soothing motion he often practiced.

“A friend of the family, is all. We call her Number One.”

“Seeking out companions is typical of humans in troubling situations,” he noted, observing Jim and his desire for familiarity. “It is only logical for you to want a friend.”

The boy only looked at him quizzically. “Are you saying I’m trying to be your friend?”

Spock felt his face grow warm. “That was not what I meant.”

“Good, because I don’t want anyone to think I’m a goody-goody now or anything.”

One of Spock’s eyebrows went up in confusion. “What makes you believe associating with me would lead to such a change in reputation?”

Jim shrugged. “Like I said, none of these kids think you’re one of them…”

Spock mirrored the movement of Jim’s shoulders. “This I am used to.”

“It’s just… Vulcans aren’t known for their rebelliousness, you know what I mean?”

“I see.” Spock couldn’t help but feel tension form in the core of his abdomen. “I was not implying such a relationship, anyway. Vulcans do not have friends.”

  
  


II.

Despite this, Jim let Spock stick around him for the rest of the afternoon. Not only the afternoon, but the entire first week. Spock quickly learned that it was unwise to tread alone in Psi Sector IX, seeing that most children wandered in pairs in their off time. The others responded to Spock as he and Jim expected them to, so they were left alone most of the time. It was odd, especially since Kirk led Spock to believe he was popular that first day fresh off the shuttle. He was disproven upon arrival. Students steered clear of Jim Kirk in what Spock could not place as fear nor disapproval. Nothing Jim had done had made Spock wary, so he didn’t see the logic behind such attitudes. Jim was nothing but friendly for a boy who didn’t even want to be Spock’s friend. However, he believed Jim was suffering from cognitive dissonance, his actions misaligned with his words. He claimed he didn’t know Spock to anyone who asked, yet stood up for the Vulcan at the mere notion of him being teased. It was confusing beyond belief, and Spock concluded that humans were the most illogical, emotion-fueled individuals he’d ever come across.

Both boys sat cross legged underneath a staircase in the west wing. They had classes all day until 1600, but Jim insisted on periods of respite between each one. The two were often late, which concerned Spock, but according to Kirk it was “no biggie.”

Kirk passed Spock the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d brought for lunch. “You can take half.”

Spock inspected it, taking the sandwich in his thin hands. The white bread was fluffy, and the condiments spread across the slices leaked from its edges. They spilled onto Spock’s fingers, making him widen his eyes in alarm.

It made Jim laugh and pass him a napkin. “Just try it. It’s good.”

Spock wiped his hands on the napkin before taking a tentative bite out of the sandwich. It had an interesting texture; it was nothing like the food back on Vulcan. The peanut butter stuck to the roof of Spock’s mouth in an unpleasant way, but its flavor complimented the jelly quite well. Jim’s eyes were on him, awaiting a response.

“What do you think?”

“It is… adequate.” Spock said, handing it back to Jim for him to cut.

The human split it in two, giving Spock a triangular half. “They really don’t make these on Vulcan?”

“They do not.”

Jim took a large bite. “Vulcan is weird,” he said with his mouth full. Spock was charmed. “It’s just one big desert, and a bunch of idiots decided to live there to either die or prove something. No offense.”

The statement threatened a smile out of Spock. That was the first time he’d ever heard anybody call Vulcans “a bunch of idiots.”

“I suppose it may seem unconventional to outsiders.” Spock said, using his tongue to lick peanut butter off of the insides of his cheeks. His eyes were downcast at the sandwich in his hands. Spock would not admit it to Jim, but he missed Vulcan. He missed his house. His mother. I-Chaya. However, as much as Spock loved these things, he could not help but hold a grudge against Vulcan. Its people rejected him wholly, even his own father. After a week on Psi Sector IX, Sarek had not bothered to contact him. It was an illogical desire, Spock knew, but he supposed Sarek could always greet him during one of his mother’s holo-transmissions. He did not. Spock did not ask for him, and Amanda did not mention him. He could only imagine the tension between his parents in his absence, something his mother hadn’t agreed to.

Spock found that, regardless of the things he loved, he would always feel alone on Vulcan. He was teased mercilessly by his peers and deemed inadequate by his father. His intelligence was questioned constantly, and his abilities were considered subpar despite his best efforts. Spock wanted nothing more than to appease everybody, but this was just another illogical desire. He hated feeling different. He hated feeling, but there were some things he would never suppress successfully. It was written in his genes, after all.

“Yeah, ‘cause the first word that comes to mind when I hear “Vulcan” is _unconventional_ ,” Jim said, leaning against the wall as the loud school bell rang.

Spock began to get to his feet, grabbing his PADD off the floor from beside him. Jim gazed up at him, his body unmoving from its relaxed position. Amanda would say that Jim had “a lot of nerve.” Spock was never fond of human figures of speech, but they reminded him of his mother nonetheless.

“We have already been late today, James.”

“Ooh, using my full name.” Jim snickered before licking strawberry jelly off of his fingertips. “I’m so threatened, Spock.”

“Our attendance is being monitored. If we intend to make our stays here as short as possible, we must become more punctual,” he pursed his lips, failing to recognize Jim’s sarcasm.

The corridor began to fill with chatter as students migrated to their next class. Underneath the staircase with Jim, Spock heard footsteps and hollow laughter above his head. Jim sighed, tired of Spock’s disapproving stare. The blonde dusted himself up and stuck his PADD into his knapsack.

“Fine. You’re so bossy.”

Spock had been called worse.

 

III.

Underneath the staircase had become their meeting spot. It was reclusive, and nobody in their right mind would ever go there. The two would report to it for lunch, to do homework together, even just to sit and talk. Oftentimes, they would bring down their pillows and PADDs to have a movie night. Somehow, Jim had managed to download several films onto his device. Spock hadn’t seen many Terran movies; only a few romance films featuring the old human actor Keanu Reeves. His mother had a bit of a crush on him, Spock noticed.

Jim scrolled down his download list, flicking past films he claimed were “boring,” “cheesy,” and “cliché.” A certain title caught Spock’s eye, though, and he swatted gently at Jim’s hand to get him to pause.

“What?” Kirk asked, adjusting himself besides Spock. He tugged at the blanket covering them, bringing it closer to his face. “See one you might like?”

Spock pointed at the screen. “I was unaware there was a movie adaptation of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_.”

Kirk snorted. “Dude, that movie is older than my grandma’s grandma.”

“Fascinating,” Spock murmured. “I would like to see it.”

“You like Disney stuff?” The blonde sounded surprised.

“I do not know what Disney is, but… when I was a child, my mother would read me this story. Of a girl in a land where right is left and left is right. It brought me comfort, knowing that others have felt as I have… confused, yet curious.”

“That’s really sweet.” The human curled against Spock’s side, visibly endeared by Spock’s words. “But… I hope this isn’t an invasive question, but why did you feel like that on Vulcan? What’s confusing about it?”

“Life is not easy for me on my home planet. My mother is a human.”

Jim’s blue eyes lit up. “Oh!”

“Yes. Due to this, I have been… rejected, to say the least, by my peers. There are a multitude of things that confuse me, their behavior being one of them…”

“I’m sorry, Spock.”

“It is no matter, especially now. Can we watch this film?”

“Yeah,” Jim said, feeling around under the blanket for Spock’s hand. Spock’s body tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

Later that week, Spock found something in his bedroom that he had not put there himself. It was a rectangular object, wrapped haphazardly in shining green paper. A note was attached to it, which Spock tugged off the parcel to read over.

_Spock,_

_I know you said you liked this book. I hope you still do._

_-JTK_

His breath hitched for a moment, anticipating what lay underneath the paper. He tore it open carefully, hoping to save the paper for later usage. Underneath it, as Spock suspected, was a copy of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll. The book was well-loved, with the paper cover bent at its upper corner and its illustrations fading. It was difficult to find physical copies of books these days, especially on man-made planets like the one Psi Sector IX was located on. Spock held it against his chest, thankful.

The next day, he read it aloud while stirring a cup of tea for the boy with golden hair as the other kids walked mindlessly above and around them. Spock smiled to himself behind his book, thinking about the private Wonderland he shared with Jim underneath the staircase. What appeared mundane to most the Vulcan deemed magical, almost sacred.

 

IV.

Months passed. Spock had little to no interaction with the rest of the students, much to his dismay. Whenever he attempted anything, they would recoil. He wondered what the causation of their disgust was. Could they truly be so xenophobic? It was the 23rd century; Spock found this difficult to believe.

He did not understand until he overheard a conversation while waiting for Jim in the east wing, standing outside his dormitory. The rooms were frighteningly small, yet Jim stayed in his whenever he wasn’t with Spock.

Two teenagers sat playing cards to Spock’s right, cross legged on the carpeted floor. They were significantly further down the hallway, but Spock’s superior hearing allowed him to listen to their mindless gossip. It was not his intention to eavesdrop, but he heard the pair mention Jim’s name. If they spoke badly of Kirk, Spock would like to know. He was unsure why, but the thought of people “talking smack” (as Kirk would say) about his human companion made him clench his jaw in unrest.

“Do you know why Jimmy’s been hanging around that pointy eared guy?”

“Nah. I wouldn’t ask, either. I don’t think anyone talks to Kirk these days.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” they paused. “He hasn’t been the same since Tarsus. You haven’t noticed?”

“I guess.”

“When he came back for the last semester last year… he wasn’t himself. All those fights, all that wild, relentless energy…”

“He _is_ different. More… irritable. I don’t know.”

“Maybe he’s just hanging around that weirdo to feel better about himself. You know what they say… misery loves company.”

Spock looked at his hands clasped before him. He wrung them, anxiousness building in the pit of his stomach. While it was true that he and Jim had been attached at the hip, he never believed it to be due to Jim’s insecurities.

Deep in thought, Spock stumbled backward when the door he leaned on opened up. He fell backwards, onto Jim before the human in question caught him. Jim laughed, softly and genuinely, pushing Spock off his chest gently.

“You good?” Jim grinned at him, his hands still grazing Spock’s sweater clad arms. Spock’s mouth was dry, embarrassment colliding with anxiety as he blinked. “Close your mouth, Spock. My mom says if you leave it open, you’ll swallow flies.”

“Your mother has a variety of interesting sayings,” Spock notes.

“She sure does.” Jim ushered Spock into the hallway, shutting his bedroom door behind him. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”

Spock forgot about the card-players for a moment as Kirk grabbed at his wrist, his calloused fingers grazing the edges of Spock’s palm. Spock’s cheeks were tinged green, but he credited that to his brief lapse in balance only moments ago.

Kirk hurried him up the main staircase, tugging the Vulcan towards a door marked ‘Staff Only.’

“Jim,” Spock was out of breath, pulling back from the other’s grip as they approached. “We cannot trespass.”

“There’s nobody around,” Jim said, as though this alone would convince Spock to break the rules. “I’ve been in there before, don’t worry about it.”

Spock huffed before following Kirk, shyly reaching for his guidance once they’d entered. The new hallway was dim, and Spock could only make out another staircase heading upwards. This confused him, seeing that they were on the top floor, but his doubts were soothed by Jim’s hand on his side as he led Spock up the steps. Spock kept his ears attentive, making sure nobody else was in the vicinity as they snuck around.

All he heard was the click of a lock, and Jim grunting as he shoved a heavy door open. Moonlight crept in, illuminating the hall behind them and a side of Jim’s face.

“Hurry up, they’ll hear us if I hold the door open any longer.”

Spock obliged, stepping through the door with Kirk. He found himself on the roof of the school building, gazing at the two moons protecting Psi Sector IX. It was beautiful, falling stars occasionally gracing the sky. Spock tread further, walking to the middle of the roof with newfound confidence.

“Isn’t it great?” Jim asked, his soft voice bringing Spock back to reality.

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

“Last year, I would come here all the time. It’s easier to think up here.”

Spock looked at Jim, his usually hard gaze softening. The words of the card players came back to him as he was exposed to Jim’s vulnerability.

He said nothing, opting to let Kirk talk for a moment before delving deeper.

“Being among the stars must be so much better than being stuck in one place, right? No commitment, no nothing. No feeling trapped. Just… floating in space. Forever. Isn’t that ideal?”

“I must disagree.”

“Why’s that?”

“It would get lonely.” Spock said, clasping his hands together again.

Jim was quiet for a moment, considering Spock’s words. He looked from the sky to the Vulcan. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“No?”

“No. You’d come with me. Just the two of us, like always. Going wherever we want in our own spacecraft or something. I dunno.”

There were stars in the sky as well as in Spock’s eyes when he looked at Jim. “Are you being sincere with me, Jim?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I… overheard some things about you. About why you favor me.” Spock admitted, his hands tightening.

Jim’s eyebrows furrowed. “What did you hear?”

Spock was silent.

“Spock,” the human insisted.

The Vulcan feared he had ruined the moment, but continued. “You are around me to ease your own insecurities.”

“What the hell?”

“They believe you are not the same as before.”

“As before what?”

“Tarsus IV.”

Jim’s eyes darkened and his face paled. His entire disposition changed, and Spock tensed. “What the fuck do you know about Tarsus?”

Spock winced. “I know nothing.”

“Liar,” he said, voice dripping venom. “You know everything. Now you think I’m pathetic, don’t you? You’re disgusted. You must be, everyone is. Why do you think nobody talks to us? It’s not because of you, that’s for damn sure.”

“Vulcans do not lie, James.”

“Bullshit,” Kirk was overly defensive, and Spock regretted ever bringing it up. He never knew when to shut up. “You don’t have to keep the act up anymore, Spock.”

“What?”

“Acting like you’re my friend.”

“I am not acting like anything.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Jim laughed bitterly, altercating rapidly. Spock could visualize his mind, twisting and turning Spock’s words against him. “Vulcans don’t have friends.”

“James,” Spock frowned. He was confused, not understanding Kirk’s attitude or behavior. He knew nothing about Tarsus IV; only that unfortunate things happened there to many unlucky people. Judging by Jim’s reaction, Spock assumed he was one of them.

Kirk said nothing, choosing to shove past Spock and run down the stairs. Spock was alone for the first time since he’d stepped off the shuttle, feeling a deep ache in his chest. He looked back up at the sky, but the stars didn’t look as bright anymore.

 

V.

Jim began to avoid him. Spock didn’t know what to do; he’d never had a fight with a friend before. He’d never had a real friend before. There was nothing he could say to Jim, as he was sure “sorry about your trauma” would be too crass.

As he suspected before, roaming Psi Sector IX alone was dangerous. There were hundreds of students who had it out for him, but Spock had no idea why. They had no logical reason to despise him the way they did, yet he found himself victimized more often than not. Without Jim’s protective presence, Spock could not avoid it. He hated feeling like he needed to be protected, but there was no way he would be able to defend himself against the groups that loomed over him. Vulcan strength or no Vulcan strength, Spock was afraid. There was little he could do about it.

Spock was coming back from his astrophysics class, hands clasped nervously as he walked back to his bedroom. His room was close to Jim’s and his eyes lingered in its direction before he headed the opposite way. Spock, despite assuring himself he felt nothing, missed his friend. He missed his tasteless jokes, captivating smile, and the way he’d split his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Spock. He missed the way he’d snort when he laughed and the scar on his lower lip. Spock dreamed of Jim’s hands on his wrists, fingertips grazing his palms gently under the cover of night. Being without Jim made Spock recognize everything he admired about him. If his mother were here, she would say Spock had been bitten by a love-bug. Illogical, Spock thought. There was no such creature.

It was a shame that it took an argument for Spock to acknowledge his deep running emotions. Spock would rather ignore his emotions, as he usually did, but there was no ignoring the love he had for James Kirk. When, he asked himself, had the easy camaraderie turned into something sweeter? Something Spock found he could not go without? He knew it sounded naïve, but he was convinced Kirk could be the love of his life. The mere thought had him flushed and distracted. He had to make things right somehow.

The problem was, Spock hadn’t seen Jim anywhere since the night on the roof. He hadn’t gone to any of his classes, and failed to show up underneath the staircase for lunch for the past four days. Spock was concerned, but he had no idea who to turn to for any help. It wasn’t like Spock or Kirk had any other friends, so there was no third party that could help him mend their relationship or even check up on Jim.

Spock was roused from his train of thought when a serious looking woman walked in his opposite direction. She held an old fashioned brown paper bag, identical to the ones Jim would pack his lunch in. Spock’s interest peaked; this couldn’t be a coincidence.

He followed her, dully noting her long, brown hair. It curled around her shoulders, adorning the collar of her command golds. She was a Starfleet officer. This woman had to be Number One, he thought. Kirk had mentioned her before, claiming she was like a second mother to him.

Number One stopped in front of Kirk’s door. Spock stood a respectable distance away, hoping to overhear something. Anything. He didn’t want to make eavesdropping a habit, but he needed to hear Jim’s voice.

Her knuckles brushed upon the door in a soft knock. “Jimmy? It’s me.”

Silence.

“I know you’re not doing so well,” she said. “I brought you lunch.”

Nothing.

“I talked to the social worker. She said you haven’t been to class in four days. I’m worried about you, Jim.”

The woman sighed. She looked over her shoulder, spotting the Vulcan at the corner. Embarrassed, Spock looked the other way. He wasn’t good at being subtle, that much was certain. He could feel her approaching him, so Spock straightened his back to appear attentive.

“You must be Spock.”

Spock avoided her eyes. “Yes,” he spoke lowly. “I am Spock.”

“Worried about Jim?”

“Vulcans do not worry,” Spock breathed out. How did she know who he was, anyway?

“Right.” Number One was amused. “Can you tell me what’s going on with Jimmy?”

“I must ask how you know my name first,” Spock said, soothing himself by rubbing the point of his ear.

The Starfleet officer chuckled. “He writes me e-mails every few days, kid. Never shuts up about you. It’s always ‘Spock and I did this,’ ‘Spock and I did that.’”

“Really?” Spock suppressed the elation that accompanied her words. His face revealed nothing.

“Yeah. Now spill.”

“I have not seen Jim since our… altercation four nights ago. I brought up Tarsus IV, and he did not react well.”

Number One’s expression returned to one of worry. The mention of Tarsus had its effect on her, too. “He’s still sensitive. You didn’t… go into detail, right? What did you say?”

“I know close to nothing regarding the tragedy, I assure you.”

“Well. Jim had a hard time last year, to put it gently.”

Spock nodded, “I assumed so. Will he… be okay?”

“If he opens that door, maybe.”

Just as she said that, Spock heard the click of Kirk’s door unlocking. His heart sped up, his head turning so quickly he almost got whiplash. Spock could see Jim’s face peeking from the crack of the doorway, his blue eyes shy. Kirk’s hands wrapped around the wood of his door, opening it only an inch or two so he could peer out into the east wing.

“Number One?” His voice was different. Kirk sounded small, almost weak. Spock had not heard him like this before.

“Jimmy!” The woman rushed to the door, blocking Spock’s view of his friend. “I’ve been so worried about you, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he spoke in a whisper. “You can come in.”

She nudged the door open wider, stepping inside Kirk’s room tentatively. Spock looked in his direction, holding up a ta’al.

Kirk threatened a smile before returning it.

 

VI.

Spock hunched over his desk, preoccupied with his schoolwork. His silent exchange with Jim ensured him of his friend’s safety, and the Vulcan was relieved to know he had not done any further damage to Kirk’s already fragile psyche. Number One had confided in him after speaking to Jim, telling Spock the gruesome story of her mission on Tarsus IV.

She’d rescued Jim, finding him among a group of starving, dying children. Number One regretted not being capable of saving them all, but she did not carry as much of a burden as James. There were certain things she did not mention, but Spock assumed Jim blamed himself for a lot of things that happened. They were beyond his control, and yet he suffered. It was illogical, but Spock ached for him. He hurt for him.

The ring of his PADD alarmed Spock, causing him to misspell a word on his assignment. It was his mother calling.

Spock greeted her with a ta’al, which she returned. Amanda looked better than the last time they had spoken, the tension in her body language was gone.

“ _Tonk'peh, ko-mekh_ ,” he greeted.

“Hello, Spock. I have great news,” she started. “Sarek agreed to bring you home.”

The news should have relieved him. It should have elicited happiness, but Spock felt nothing. He felt a peculiar numbness in his face paired with a tightness in his throat. He should be happy.

“I see.”

“We’ve arranged for a shuttle to pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“I will collect my things,” he said, voice strained.

Amanda grinned at him, gushing with affection. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I hope you’re not still angry at your father. I know this was difficult, but… you’ll be back before you know it.”

“Goodbye, mother.”

The transmission ended, and Spock stared at the wall blankly. What was he supposed to tell Jim?

 

VII.

The wooden door before him opened as quietly as possible, revealing Kirk on the other side. Spock held a triangular half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich towards him. Jim took it, stepping aside so Spock could come in.

It shut behind him, and the two sat on Jim’s messy bed. It was almost one in the morning, but they sat cross legged, eating replicated Terran delicacies. Neither boy spoke for a long time, not until Jim finished his half of the sandwich. He licked at his thumb again, the action making Spock wrinkle his nose in distaste.

“I’m sorry, Spock.” He leaned closer, wiping the sticky residue of the strawberry jelly onto his pajama bottoms. “I… I don’t like hearing about Tarsus. It’s too fresh. I thought… you heard everything from the wrong people.”

“I understand,” Spock offered the blonde a napkin for his face, for it had been stained with jelly as well. Jim wiped at his face before balling it up and tossing it behind him, not caring where the trash landed. “However, this is not why I am here.”

“Really?” Jim looked confused.

Spock sighed, reaching for Jim. The human flushed, something he rarely did. Spock placed his hands on Jim’s arms, rubbing one gently. His mother soothed Spock this way, and he hoped it worked on his friend. They met eyes, Spock’s gaze regretful yet full of love. He couldn’t hide his affection anymore, and he was sure Kirk was beginning to notice.

“I am leaving Psi Sector IX tomorrow morning.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“Vulcans do not j-“

“Spock, shut up.”

Spock closed his mouth.

“You can’t leave,” Kirk’s voice wavered. “You can’t leave me all by myself, Spock…”

“I am sorry, _ashayam_.”

Jim’s eyes watered. He spoke enough Vulcan to know what that meant. “Spock… please…”

Spock did his best, maintaining his stoic, Vulcan mask. “There is nothing I can do. My father has arranged for a shuttle to pick me up tomorrow directly after sunrise.”

“I hate him,” Kirk spat. “I hate Sarek, I hate Vulcan, I hate… I hate being away from you.”

He was standing now, turned away from Spock. The Vulcan grabbed at his arm again, but Jim shook him off. “You should go, then.”

“James. I will not forgo the last moments I have with you.” Spock spoke sternly, his voice cracking.

“Then stay. Stay with me.”

He did. Spock stayed, holding Kirk close to his chest as they talked for the remainder of the night. Spock told Jim everything he hadn’t mentioned in the last few months, his inhibitions out the window. He recalled his childhood, his relationships with his siblings Sybok and Michael and even the time I-Chaya rescued him from the dunes. Kirk giggled at that, claiming he owed I-Chaya his life for rescuing the “cutest Vulcan in the sector.” The words made Spock flush and pull Kirk closer to himself as he buried his burning face into the other’s neck.

Jim told him about his time in Riverside, Iowa. His mother, Winona Kirk, wasn’t around too much, especially not after Kirk started getting into trouble at school. Jim was a certified genius, but he was restless. He found it difficult to focus and his teachers found him a nuisance. He yearned for challenges as well as recognition, and would do most anything to get both. Sometimes together. This didn’t always work out, he laughed, retelling the story of what got him shipped to Psi Sector IX in the first place. It involved a car, a cliff, and a lot of adrenaline.

The sun came up before he knew it. Spock’s throat constricted, his grip on Jim tightening as the sunlight crept through the blinds. He could feel Kirk’s unease as well, his touch telepathy picking up on his desperation to make Spock stay. Spock began to sit up, straightening his shirt and looking around Jim’s bed for his shoes. Jim watched him, his blue eyes tracing Spock’s every languid movement.

“You really have to go?” Kirk questioned, his voice claiming a shy timbre once again.

Spock wiggled his feet into his shoes, looking over his shoulder at his best friend. Jim’s golden hair stuck up in multiple directions, just like the first day they’d crossed paths. Spock’s mask failed him as he smiled a bittersweet smile, raising his hand to Jim’s face. He grazed the curve of his freckled cheek with his thumb, sending Jim his adoration through the shallow, temporary link they’d established over the course of their time together. It allowed for Jim to feel Spock whenever they touched as Spock felt Jim. It was beautiful, but Spock regretted knowing that the most beautiful things would eventually come to an end.

Kirk followed Spock down to the shuttle station, helping him with one of his suitcases as they made their way down. His human emotions were more than evident, and they made Spock feel worse about the entire ordeal. How was he supposed to get through life without his better half? He had only known James Kirk for a little under a year, yet he felt as though he’d come to know him like the back of his hand. Spock knew Jim like a dancer knew their first routine; like a painter knew the stroke of their brush. It pained him to know he would not see Jim again for a very long time.

The shuttle awaited him. Numerous others were beginning to board, but Spock’s legs felt heavy as he tried to walk away from Jim. He dropped his bag at his side, cupping Jim’s face with both hands.

Everything Spock wanted to say had been communicated a while ago; they had come to love each other the same way one would learn how to swim. Gradually, familiarizing oneself with the water before diving right in. Their confessions were unspoken as actions spoke louder than any word could.

Kirk covered Spock’s hands with his own, gently grazing his fingertips over the backs of the Vulcan’s. A tear fell down his rosy cheek as he smiled.

“Goodbye, James.”

“No,” he sniffled. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“It makes it sound like we’ll never see each other again.”

“I see.”

“Promise me we will,” Jim said, his grip on Spock’s hands tightening. “Promise me, Spock.”

“I promise, _t’hy’la_ ,” Spock closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Jim’s. “ _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_.”

The last call for the shuttle was made. Spock braced himself as he pulled back, only to be pulled in one more time for an overly zealous human kiss.

VIII.

From the window, he saw Jim waving to him. He kept his eyes on him until he could no longer make him out. His head hurt, a dull pain making itself comfortable in his entire body. Spock curled up in his chair, bringing his legs up to his chest and burying his head in the midst. He no longer knew where he was going, as there was no such thing as home without James Kirk.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I could not shake the idea for this story out of my mind. The second and final part of the series will be finished by the end of the week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Shout-out to Eve, Rosie, and teenspock on Tumblr for proofreading this story.
> 
> LLAP.
> 
> (Tumblr: scifixation)


End file.
